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On wings of wind came flying all abroad.

Alexander Pope

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Alexander Pope
Age: 56 †
Born: 1688
Born: May 21
Died: 1744
Died: May 30
Literary Historian
Poet
Translator
the City
Pope the Poet
Alexander I Pope
Alexander
I Pope
Haste
Abroad
Flying
Wings
Wind
Came

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Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss.
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Unthought-of Frailties cheat us in the Wise.
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How loved, how honored once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot A heap of dust alone remains of thee 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
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But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain. The wond'ring forests soon should dance again The moving mountains hear the powerful call. And headlong streams hand listening in their fall!
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Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust, Yet cry, if man's unhappy, God's unjust.
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Amusement is the happiness of those who cannot think.
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O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, And make my tongue victorious as her eyes.
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There is a certain majesty in simplicity which is far above all the quaintness of wit.
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A little learning is a dangerous thing drink of it deeply, or taste it not, for shallow thoughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking deeply sobers us again.
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For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the best, Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.
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The ruling passion, be it what it will. The ruling passion conquers reason still.
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Then sculpture and her sister arts revived stones leaped to form, and rocks began to live.
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Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise. By mountains pil'd on mountains to the skies? Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
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Praise undeserved, is satire in disguise.
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Not to go back is somewhat to advance, and men must walk, at least, before they dance.
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Nature and nature's laws lay hid in the night. God said, Let Newton be! and all was light!
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On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.
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And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances and the public show.
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So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part, Bold in the practice of mistaken rules, Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.
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The race by vigour, not by vaunts, is won.
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